


A Steep Ascent

by alter_autumn



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28716189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alter_autumn/pseuds/alter_autumn
Summary: After the death of his step-dad, Callum must acclimate back to "normal" life. While navigating the struggles of returning to school and feelings of isolation, he often brushes aside his own needs and prioritizes the well-being of his brother.Having few people to turn to himself, Callum is surprised when he learns that his new classmate, Rayla, is all too familiar with his situation. With their blooming friendship comes the resurgence of some carefully suppressed emotions. Through their compassion and desire for one another to be happy, they work together to find ways to heal.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 61





	1. This Fine Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, over the past year I started diving into fanfics for the first time in a while. There are so many great works in this fandom that have inspired me to write something of my own.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Callum’s fingers drummed along the kitchen table, brows furrowed as he studied the paper in front of him. He shook his head and grabbed the eraser, scrubbing gently at the center of the sketch. Hands could be difficult enough to capture on their own, but intertwined? It was proving to be an arduous task even for him.

He traced again, lead lightly brushing the page until two hands appeared, the larger one cradling the smaller.  _ Good enough _ , Callum decided. The pencil drifted away from his subjects as he turned his attention to the mountain towering in the background.

The memory of that afternoon, the scenery and hand-holders both, gleamed fresh in his mind. He’d left the art supply store on Main and took a detour on his way home. Typically, any trip out of the house pummeled him with anxious thoughts, telling him he needed to  _ hurry somewhere  _ or that he'd  _ forgotten something important.  _ But that day had been different. He strolled through town, new case of pencils in hand, and was struck with the inclination to spend some time outdoors . So he found himself on a park bench and just...relaxed. 

He wanted this sketch to capture that unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, peace of mind.

All sense of time and place fled Callum’s mind as he worked. Only when he was satisfied with the shading did he peel his eyes away to look out the window, where sunlight was beginning to creep over the treetops. A knot formed in his chest. He really wasn’t looking forward to today. 

_ Knock knock.  _ He turned to see his aunt smiling at him from the kitchen entrance. 

“I’m surprised to see you up this early,” Amaya signed to him.

“Yeah, I woke up before my alarm and just decided to get ready.”

“Are you hungry?" she asked. "I told your brother I’d whip up a big breakfast this morning.”

His stomach flipped. “Uh, not really? Thanks, though.”

His aunt gave him a stern look. “Callum, you shouldn’t go all morning without eating.”

“I know, I know. I’ll pack a snack or something, okay? I promise I won’t starve.” He attempted a smile. 

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, face a little pinched as she signed.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” He said with a nervous squeak. 

Amaya eyed him intently and the grip on his chest tightened. Was the anxiety written all over his face? Luckily, his aunt didn’t press the subject of his mood any further, instead she just ruffled his hair and set about preparing breakfast. 

He turned back to his sketch. The only parts that needed more detail were the joined hands and the young girl’s face. His heart lifted at the memory. She had reminded him of a younger Ezran, bright-eyed and giggling with joy, unburdened by the hardships life offered. He sketched until he captured that freeness in her eyes.

Eventually, Amaya waved to get his attention. “Could you wake Ezran up?”

“Sure,” he said with some trepidation. He didn’t move right away, still trying to keep the peaceful morning from slipping out of his grasp. Amaya glanced at him again and noticed what he’d been working on.

“That looks great,” she signed. “Do you know them?”

“No, they were just this mom and daughter I saw at the park the other day,” he said, an edge of sadness to his voice. Hopefully his aunt couldn’t pick up on it.

She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before she signed, “Callum, I promise you everything will be okay. The day will be over before you know it, and each day after that will feel a little easier.”   
  


Callum flushed. Apparently he wasn’t too stealthy when it came to hiding his feelings. 

“Thank you, Aunt Amaya. I hope it will be. It’s just– everything’s so different. I used to look forward to going, sort of. It’s hard, having to see all these people who just...” He shook his head. “I don’t know. They all feel like strangers to me. I really don’t want to be around them,” he mumbled.

“I know, Callum. I know how hard it is. But the right people will make their way into your life.” She smiled at him. “Claudia’s still there at least, right?”

“Yeah, she is.” He shrugged. “I guess I figured since our schedules don’t overlap I wouldn’t really see her.”

“You know she’ll still be looking out for you.”

“Yeah, it’s not that easy to escape her.” Callum said with a soft smile. “I guess I’ll be okay.” 

“You will be,” Amaya signed. She reached over again, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “And no matter what else, you will always have your brother and I.” 

He nodded, but couldn’t fight off the wave of grief that crashed over him. Other people he had once considered central figures in his life had already been taken from him. 

“I know,” he said, grateful and heartbroken in equal measure. He took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll go get Ez up.” He turned away, keenly aware of the concerned gaze that followed him.

Though it took a couple of shakes before Ezran stirred, the moment his eyelids parted he shot up. He took Callum’s arm and jostled him in return.

“Callum! Have you ever had one of those dreams where you know you’re dreaming?” he asked while scooting to the edge of the bed. 

“Uh, maybe once or twice? Why, did you have one?”

“Yeah! It was  _ weird.  _ I was in this meadow, I think? I’ve never seen this place before. And then I was like, ‘Wait, how did I get here?’ Then I realized I was dreaming! So you know what I did?” 

Callum chuckled at his brother’s excitement. “No, what?”

“I started  _ flying! _ " he exclaimed, bouncing the bed a little. "I was like, ‘Oh, I’m dreaming. That means I can do whatever I want!’ So I leapt into the air and started soaring around!”

“Did you grow wings and a beak, too?” Callum asked wryly.

Ezran rolled his eyes. “No, I wasn’t a  _ bird _ . I was just me, but a me that can fly!”

“Well, that is pretty exciting. No more flying for now, though. We gotta get ready for school.”

Ezran’s face fell. “Ugh. Right.” 

“Don’t worry, it’ll go by fast,” Callum said, still trying to convince himself of this, too. “Oh, I think Aunt Amaya just finished making breakfast.”

Ezran gasped. “Right, I forgot! Well, maybe today won’t be so bad," he reasoned, and with that he scampered over to his closet, tossing a shirt over his arm. Callum stayed put on Ezran’s bed, eyes fixed blearily on the floor.

“Uh, Callum? Can you leave so I can get ready?” 

His head snapped up. “Right! Sorry, sorry.”

A literal feast greeted them as they entered the kitchen. The table was covered with fluffy eggs, sizzling bacon (both regular and veggie bacon for Ez), toast, and towering stacks of multi-flavored pancakes. Callum’s mouth watered. Well...maybe he was sort of hungry, after all. 

He ate happily, enjoying the assortment of pancake fillings, though he was partial to the strawberry and banana ones. As he considered reaching for another, his phone alarm buzzed, reverberating along the kitchen table. Amaya glanced at the clock. “You boys ready to go?”

Welp. There was the nausea again. He glanced at Ezran, hoping his brother didn’t share the sensation of a fist clenching over his heart. He tried to push the feeling aside and reached over to pat his brother’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I am. Ez?” 

Ezran sighed and looked toward the front door, eyes set determinedly.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

___________

  
  


Rayla’s hand came down in a quick fury upon her nightstand. She grabbed clumsily for her phone, groaning at the incessant blaring of the alarm. Unfortunately, in her haste to reach it she worsened the situation, as the phone had toppled onto the floor and out of her reach.  _ Ugh _ .

She kept her eyes shut. Oh, she wished she could lay there for a moment longer and slip back into her dream. Something about it had  _ electrified  _ her. But there was no way she could ignore that infuriating ringing. Accepting her defeat, she rolled out of bed to retrieve the phone, stretching as she stood. 

She blinked at the room around her, uneasy. It was all so unfamiliar. The size, the pasty yellow wall color, the furniture arrangement– everything was off. Most of her belongings had traveled here with her, though, and that was no small comfort. Her eyes lingered on the wooden box that sat atop her dresser, just for a moment, until she shook her head and turned to the closet.

She pulled out a pair of light-washed jeans, a white t-shirt, and the zippered navy blue jumper that she’d worn on the plane ride over. Her fingers traced along its soft material. Wearing it that day had brought her some comfort, maybe today it could do the same. 

Once dressed, she threw her hair into a bun and assessed how she looked.  _ Good enough _ . This was school, after all, why should it matter what she wore?

With a last sweeping look around her bedroom, she confirmed she had everything she needed packed in her bag already. She checked her phone. No time to eat,  _ great.  _ Nothing better than starting the morning off hungry and cranky!

Her breakfast worries, however, turned out to be obsolete. Waiting for her on the kitchen table was a large triangular pastry, a hot to-go cup, and a sticky note. 

'Good luck today,  mo leannan,' the message read. A small, embarrassed smile replaced her tired frown. She grabbed her backpack and everything Ethari had left for her, note included, and left the house. 

The coffee was invigorating, the smoothness and warmth of it enough to overpower her dull, tired headache. And so, she took in her surroundings with newfound admiration. A few neighbors she walked past bid her good morning. Birds fluttered from the trees that draped lazily over the sidewalk. Patches of forest lay beyond the side of the road, beckoning her to explore them. On some of the less hilly backroads, mountains dotted the horizon. She wondered how close the nearest mountain could be. 

As she reached the center of town, store signs were flipping to ‘open’. A few window displays caught her eye: jewelry and other flashy trinkets, fall clothing, hiking gear, rows of pastries– perhaps where Ethari had gotten hers? She shook her head, reminding herself she had somewhere to be. Luckily, she was a fast walker. 

No less than five minutes later, the school popped into view. Her pace slowed, legs suddenly heavy, resisting the task of carrying her forward.

_ How would the others treat her? Would she handle herself well? What if she failed her classes? _

She rolled her eyes at the paranoid train of thought. Really, there was no sense in worrying. She would do just fine.  Fists clenched with resolve, she strode down the road and soon found herself on the school grounds. 

Buses lined the parking lot, a few more still pulling up. A steady stream of students trickled out and congregated into a large mass, all bound for the front steps.  She fell in with the crowd. Her hands migrated from her sides into the pockets of her jumper. She rolled her shoulders to loosen them, keeping her expression neutral. Everything was okay. 

At least it would have been, if not for the screeches and bellows that pierced the morning air. All around her, voices cried out, students bursting with laughter and shouting over each other. 

_ Ugh, morning people. _

She weaved her way through the crowd until she made it inside the building. She veered left, heading in the direction she knew her first class to be. Ethari had suggested she take her class schedule and had even printed a layout of the school for her, which she'd spent some time last night studying. Really, bringing them had been unnecessary, she had it all sorted.

The room was at the end of a hallway, mostly empty, save for a few students in the back. The teacher wasn’t there, but the white board read “10th Grade Honors English'' with some notes scrawled underneath it. She turned to the first column of desks lined up against the wall and chose a seat halfway down the line. She pulled out a notebook and folder, both labeled with the course name, a pencil, and the remaining half of the pastry she’d nibbled at on the walk over.

A short, middle aged man burst through the door just then, and he seemed to be moving in a frenzy. “Good morning, good morning! Happy first day of school!” he said, quite voluminously, to the four students facing him. The three boys in the back mumbled their greetings and Rayla, who was a bit preoccupied with chewing, gave him a small wave.

“Ooh, I’m sorry, would you mind putting that food away?” he asked her. Her eyes widened and she hastily stuffed the food back into its bag. “I’m sorry,” he continued, “I used to allow food in here, but pretty soon we were  _ crawling  _ with bugs.” 

“Oh, it’s no problem. My mistake,” she mumbled, still trying to finish her last bite.

His head tilted a bit as he squinted at her. “What’s your name? I don’t believe I had you in my class last year?”

“Rayla,” she said, and noticed the gazes of the other students on her. “And no, you wouldn’t have. I just moved here this week, actually. From Scotland.”

He beamed at her. “Welcome then, Rayla! I’m Mr. Duncan. You let me know if you have any questions about the school, okay?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

  
  
“I’d love to ask you more about your move here, but we’ll be doing some icebreakers about our summers anyway, so you’ll get a chance to talk about it with the class!” He bounced on his heels as he spoke.

“Oh...great?” she replied, taken aback by his unbridled energy and his assumption that she’d  _ love  _ to share details of her life with a room full of strangers. The prospect didn’t worry her, exactly, but it wasn’t like she  _ wanted  _ to do it. Ideally, she’d get through this day without having to speak at all.

Over the next few minutes, the rest of the class filed in, Mr. Duncan welcoming each of them individually. He retrieved a stack of notecards as the bell rang and turned to address the class.

“Hello and happy first day of school, everyone! I hope you all had wonderful summers and are ready to give it your all this year. I can tell you this much, tenth grade may come with some new challenges, harder coursework, SAT preparations, but know that in my class there is very little you have to worry about.” He paused, assessing their reaction.

“I always do my best to ensure that the work I ask of you is fair. You will not be bogged down with constant quizzes and tests in this class. You’re here to  _ think _ , not memorize mundane facts! So if you read the assigned material and actively participate in class discussions, you’ll all do well here. How does that sound to everyone?”

The class murmured a hum of agreement, and Mr. Duncan chortled. “Thank you, but I hope in our discussions you’ll show more enthusiasm than that! Now, I know most of you already from last year, but a lot can change in that time, so I’d like you to tell me a bit about yourself.” He began distributing the cards to the first student in each row.

“Fill out your name at the top, and tell me about some of your interests– hobbies, favorite novels or movies, favorite subject, fun stuff like that. Don’t fret too much about it. And under that please write a short statement about something you did this summer that was significant to you. We’ll go around the room and share some of this together, and then I’ll collect your cards.”

  
  
Rayla’s gut churned a little. Keep it simple. She had moved abroad, wasn't that be significant enough? If he were to press for details, though...well it’s not as if she could discuss  _ why _ they had moved here–

She scribbled down her answers, as succinct as she could make them. A few whispered conversations carried across the room. Smiling faces, friends eager to be around one another. 

_ Would she ever have that here? _

She sat up straighter, redirecting her attention to the front of the room. 

“Okay, seems like everyone’s about finished," Mr. Duncan said. "Uh, let’s see. Let’s start with you, Andrew. Would you like to tell us about your summer?"

The boy, Andrew, craned his neck around to smirk at a student behind him. “Hey, uh, what’s up guys. I’m Andrew. I didn’t really do much this summer. I played basketball, hung out with some people. And uh...yeah,” he tapered off.

“And who did you spend time with? Was there anything you learned? Did you improve your skills in basketball?” Mr. Duncan asked.

“I mean, uh, I hope I did. I mostly spent time with my friends,” Andrew paused. “Oh, and my brother. Actually, I did learn something. My brother and I fixed up his car. So I learned some stuff about, uh, how to do that.”

“Well, that’s wonderful! You improved upon an old skill, picked up another, and in doing so spent time with loved ones. Excellent! Who would like to go next?”

The next few lines of questioning went on in the same fashion. Some students volunteered a lot of information while others needed more coaxing. After one girl spoke in depth about her family’s vacation to Italy, Mr. Duncan asked, “And did anyone else travel to other countries this summer?” His eyes slid expectantly in her direction. 

_ Here we go. _

Seeing her hand half-raised in the air, Mr. Duncan beamed at her. “Yes, go ahead!”

She cleared her throat and glanced around the room. Some students looked at her, others were still chatting with their friends or gazing down at their desks.

“Hi. My name’s Rayla, and I moved here from Scotland this summer.” 

All eyes were on her now.

“What a move that must have been!” Mr. Duncan replied. “And where did you live in Scotland?”

“Perth,” she said, reasonably certain none of them knew where that was. “It’s a bit north of Edinburgh.” 

“And what was it like, living there?”

  
  
“Uh, I mean, it’s beautiful there.” She smiled wistfully. “A lot of old buildings, lots of history. But that’s most places in Scotland. And I mean, the views are pretty, there's some mountains close by. Sort of reminds me of here, a bit.” She took another quick scan of the room. Mr. Duncan’s mien was full of interest, her classmate’s were unreadable. She hurried on. “And, uh, Perth has some nice shops. Haven’t been to any here yet, though I’m sure they’re nice, too,” she said, desperately hoping her answer was detailed enough for this teacher. 

“Interesting, you’ve already found things that remind you of home! And I think you’ll find there’s a lot to love here.” Mr. Duncan's smile widened. “And if you have any questions about the school, I’m sure any of these guys would be happy to help you out.” He gestured to the class at large.

“Thanks,” she said. He gave her a small nod and, thankfully, turned to another student.

She flipped her notebook open, not really in the mood to listen to anyone else speak. How much longer until class was over, anyway? Before she could pull out her phone to check, a flurry of dark hair whipping around caught her attention. She looked up to find a wide pair of eyes regarding her. 

“I love your accent! It’s so pretty!” The girl said in a harsh whisper.

“Uh, thanks?” Rayla answered, nonplussed.

She beamed at Rayla before spinning back around. A couple of people nearby had watched the exchange, but quickly looked away. 

The next student to go, a boy sitting against the back wall in the next row over, spoke softly and had very little to say. Surprisingly, Mr. Duncan didn’t press him to continue. 

After what felt like an hour had passed, they finished the semi-awkward introductions and Mr. Duncan began distributing the syllabus. He gave them some more encouraging words about the upcoming year before the bell rang. She hurried out of her seat. Her next class was a floor up and on the other side of the building, and she did  _ not  _ want to arrive late. 

She hadn’t made it ten feet out the door when a quick tap to the shoulder stopped her.

“Uh, hi– Rayla right?” The girl that liked her accent asked.

“Yeah?”

“Hi! Um, I’m Maggie. I know you just heard everyone’s names, but it’s probably hard to remember them all!” She laughed nervously. “I, uh, just wanted to say, if need help getting around or anything, you can ask me.”

Rayla grinned at her. “Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate that.” She gave her a small nod and turned to leave, but Maggie kept to her side as she walked.

“So, uh, what class do you have now?” Maggie asked.

“Geometry.”

“Oh, cool! That’s upstairs, if you didn’t know. Mine’s upstairs too, but I’m going to Italian.” She spoke quickly, like she was bursting to get the words out.

“Oh, okay.” Rayla tried for a smile again, but it fumbled a little. She was perplexed. The first two people she'd spoken to were far more cheerful than she could have anticipated. She wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Do you like the school so far?” Maggie asked as they ascended the staircase.

Rayla huffed a laugh. “Yeah. I mean, it seems alright, from what I can tell after one class.”

“That’s good! The teachers are usually pretty nice, and most of the kids are okay. Some of the boys are super annoying, though.” Maggie eyed her. “They’ll probably hit on you a lot!”

Rayla sputtered a bit, both at the statement and the cheery delivery of it. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to look out for that.”

“Okay, well, my class is over here. I’ll see you around!” she said with an animated wave.

“Bye, Maggie.” Rayla shook her head as Maggie bounced away. Would everyone she meet be so...vivacious? Were Americans just like that? It was a bit strange. But even so, the welcome she'd gotten from Maggie and Mr. Duncan had been nice. 

Overall, the first class hadn’t been terrible. Hopefully the rest of the day would pass in the same fashion. Maybe with a bit less personal discussion from now on. 

___________

  
  


By the middle of third period, Callum was utterly convinced that he would never set foot in the school again. He couldn’t focus on anything, save for his discomfort. Intrusive thoughts screamed at him to get up from his desk, speed down the hallway, and escape out one of the side doors. He saw himself racing through town until he reached home, despite the fact that he wasn’t much of a runner. 

He just...he needed to get back to the sanctuary of his room. As soon as possible _.  _ The one place he could just be. No carefully controlling his expression when a pang of sadness hit. No enduring the pitying stares of teachers. No pretending he didn’t notice how his classmates avoided looking at him. 

_ How can I deal with three more years of this? _

He sprang up with the bell, his belongings already packed away since he never bothered taking them out. He headed for his locker, gaze cast downward as he shuffled his way through the crowd. 

_ Just keep it together. It’s only a few more hours. Just keep it together. _

He opened his locker with practiced familiarity. The lockers here were a real pain, you had to kind of shimmy and lift it as you turned the lock. He lingered there, his face hidden behind the open door. There'd been no real need to stop here, it was just a way to forestall the most dreaded hour of the day– lunch.

_ What am I supposed to do? Sit alone in awkward silence the whole time? _

He couldn’t fathom the idea of eating. Even without the ball of nerves roiling through his stomach, he wouldn’t have been hungry. What genius in charge decided that fourth period was a good time to start lunch, anyway? It wasn’t even 11 in the morning! 

With a sigh, he stuffed a few notebooks away, wishing he had his sketchbook on him. He’d considered bringing it, but decided it was too valuable to have here. And too personal. He didn’t want to chance any wandering eyes catching a glimpse of his sketches. Maybe he could spend the period drawing in a regular notebook, though. So long as he wasn’t seated too close to anyone else.

His hand had just come up to close the locker when he was attacked.

A sudden rustling of his hair and knuckles rubbing aggressively against his scalp startled a gasp out of him. He whipped around to face his assailant.

“Hiii Callum!” A familiar, raspy voice greeted him.

“Claudia, you scared the shit out of me!”

“How are you? How’s your day going?” She asked brightly, ignoring his complaint.

“Wonderful. Truly happy to be here,” he deadpanned.

“Aw, that good, huh? Well, guess what? I had to switch some classes around, so I have lunch fourth period now!”

“Really?” Callum asked, his face brightening.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” She closed his locker and ruffled his hair once more. He huffed, but felt no real annoyance. Far from it, he was relieved.

Aunt Amaya had been right. Here was Claudia, looking out for him. Most of the heavy tension he’d been carrying around flooded from his limbs. He was so grateful to have her here, to have her as a friend. At least there was one person in this school he could be himself around. No plastering on a fake smile required. Claudia’s antics usually produced a genuine smile from him, anyway.

They reached the cafeteria, settling at an unoccupied table in the far corner. Some renewed anxiety bubbled in his stomach, even with Claudia here. He craned his neck around, looking for...what, exactly? Her friends? He scanned the room for familiar faces. Was he keeping her from them? He didn’t want her to feel like she had to babysit him. She was a senior, after all, and surely she would rather sit with her own peers than a mopey, awkward, sad-sack sophomore who–

_ No.  _ He tried desperately to shut down his destructive thought spiral.  _ You’ve been friends with her your whole life. She cares about you. You’re not a burden to her.  _

He turned back to find the contents of her bag strewn along her side of the table. His side remained empty.

“You’re not eating?” She asked with a furrowed brow. 

His gut clenched. He was already causing her worry. He most definitely was a burden. 

“No. It’s what, 10:40? It’s weird that they even start lunch this early.” 

She shrugged as she pulled a sandwich and a rather large thermos towards her. “Well, I don’t mind. I’m always hungry.”  Taking a bite of her lunch, she gazed thoughtfully at Callum. No, not at him, actually, but into the empty space beyond his head.

“It’s weird that this is my last year here,” she said. Her face contorted into something complicated, like it couldn’t settle on an emotion to display. 

“Are you nervous? For college, I mean.”

“Eh?” She tilted her hand side to side. “Kinda. I mean, I’m mostly worried about dealing with the applications right now. But at least I don’t have to worry about the SATs anymore. The teachers are still on our asses about taking it again.” She rolled her eyes. “Why?! I already got a good score the last two times! And I’d rather eat my foot than sit through that test again.”

Callum chuckled. “So they’re already getting under your skin on the first day, huh?”

“Ugh, yes! And that’s not all. It feels like they just dropped us into the middle of the year already. Like, hello? Since when did we start jumping right into the coursework on the first day of school? And if they want us to focus on college applications, then why are they giving us  so much  to _do_?” She shook her head and took a generous swig from her thermos before she spoke again. “How about you? How were your classes so far?”

“They were fine,” he replied. “Definitely not stressful like yours. Mostly they just went over the syllabus and let us talk for the rest of the period.”

“How was that? Talking to people.” 

He huffed. “Didn’t do much chatting with anyone today. Other than you.” 

Claudia’s lips turned downward with obvious concern. “Are people still...I mean, are they treating you okay?”

“If by ‘treating me okay’ you mean ‘actively avoiding looking in my direction,’ then yeah,” he said gruffly.

She reached across the table, resting her hand on his, but remained silent.

He sighed as the burning urge to escape resurfaced once again. “It’s just, it’s so  _ awkward _ , Claudia. I mean, you know I'm not really close with any of them to begin with. But I just kinda hoped people would, I don’t know, at least treat me the same way as before. When they didn’t go out of their way to talk to me, but didn’t get so  _ uncomfortable  _ around me, either. Last year was just–” he cut off, breathing evenly through his nose, “–it was hard. It was hard to play catch up and finish the semester on my own. But I did it. And now I’m back here and I just, I just feel like…” he trailed off, anxious to continue. The self-incriminating voice spoke again, furious at him for unraveling in front of her so easily.

“I feel like I can’t do this.”

He moved his hand from under hers, bringing it to fiddle nervously with a strap on his backpack. He avoided her gaze.

“Callum…” she started, voice gentle. She took a breath, steeling herself like she always did when discussing something important. Her default mode was goofiness, but she could be serious when the situation called for it. 

“It’s okay, you know. To have these feelings. The ones that make it seem like everything is just  _ too much. _ Too hard to handle." She sighed, eye boring into him to emphasize the weight behind her words. "Those feelings don’t make you weak, you know. Or a burden to other people.” He looked up, startled, at her stern expression. She was privy to his insecurities, even when they went unspoken.

“I know what it feels like to doubt yourself. But Callum, you  _ can  _ do this. You’ve already pulled yourself through so much shit. And not just yourself! You’ve been such a good brother to Ezran during all of this.”  She broke her steely demeanor as a smile tugged at her lips. “And you even make time for me and my dumb problems on top of everything else. You’re a good person, Callum. And  _ strong _ . I know you can get through this. And I’m here to help you, however I can.”

Callum’s shoulders, which he hadn’t even realized had been hunched so tensely, dropped. Something that felt suspiciously like tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.  _ Please don’t cry at school, _ he begged himself.

He ran a hand over his face and met her eyes. He stuttered, unable to express how grateful he was. 

“I, I can’t even–” Whew. He took a deep breath. “Claudia, thank you. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” He did his best to compose himself and continued. “It really just feels like no one knows how to, how to  _ deal _ with me, I guess. I was even worried I’d start bringing you down, or whatever. Like I’m keeping you from hanging out with people that aren’t so depressing.”

She scoffed at him. “Oh, shut up! You’re a delight to be around, always.” She pressed on before he could voice the retort that rose to his lips. “Callum, I’m here for you! No matter what kind of mood you’re in. I’m not gonna abandon you, or act all weird around you, alright? I’m not like that, not like all those little assholes in your class.” 

He guffawed as the big, heavy feelings in his chest gave way to the familiar prick of social anxiety. “Claudia!” He reprimanded, craning his neck around to assure no one had heard her. “You don’t need to– they’re not  _ that  _ bad!”

“Hey, I’m the senior here! We’re supposed to look down on the other grades. Especially when they literally _are_ all assholes!”

He folded his arms. “Really? All of them? You’ve gotten to know each and every one of them personally?” 

“Eh, I don’t need to. I know enough.” She waved her hand absentmindedly, then took a sizable bite out of her sandwich. “Getting so worked up made me even  _ hungrier, _ ” she said, though it came out garbled, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of her mouth. “You sure you don’t want any food?” 

“Nah, I’m fine. I had a big breakfast.”

She chucked a small baggie at him. “Take these, in case you get hungry later.”

“Claudia–” he attempted.

“ _ Take it _ , Callum.”

He glanced down at the snack that had fallen into his lap. “Ooh, I love this flavor.”

Claudia snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Their conversation turned idle, the emotionally charged topics transforming into a familiar, friendly banter.

Some time towards the end of the period, the volume across the cafeteria rose considerably. There was the banging of fists on wood, raucous laughter, and a chair that somehow got upended and skidded a few feet away.

“They’re in your grade, right?” Claudia asked.

“Yep.”

“See? Assholes. All of them.”

Callum chuckled, not feeling the need to dispute her claim this time.

“Yeah, you might be right. Although, hm.” He paused, thinking back to first period. “There is one person that might not be.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. There was a new girl in one of my classes,” Callum said nonchalantly. For some reason, Claudia’s eyebrows raised. 

“Hm. What was she like?” 

“Um, I don’t really know. I didn’t talk to her. Mr. Duncan was just asking us about our summers and she said she moved here from Scotland.”

Claudia’s mouth turned upward in a conspiratorial smile, her index finger came up to tap her nose repeatedly. He still didn’t know what that meant.

“So she’s pretty cute, huh?” 

“Claudia!” Callum shushed her, looking wildly around to make sure the girl, Rayla, wasn’t conveniently sitting right behind them.

Claudia relished in his discomfort, snorting as she laughed. “Oh, she  _ definitely  _ is, then.”

“I– I mean, I don’t know! I wasn’t, like, staring! I couldn’t even see her, really. Just the back of her head.”

“Well, I’m sure it was a very cute head, then.”

His cheeks grew uncomfortably warm. He brought his hands up to cover his face. “Why do you love embarrassing me?”

“Cause look how  _ easy  _ it is!” She giggled. “Aw, well when you get a better look at her, you let me know if the front of her head is cute, too.” 

“Yeah, okay. Sure."

“What’s her name?” 

“We’re done talking about this,” he said firmly.

“Just tell me!” Claudia whined.

“No! Why do you care? You sound so creepy.”

“ _ I’m  _ not the one ogling at the back of someone’s head.” Oh, her smirk had turned absolutely  _ evil _ .

“I never–!” Callum sputtered. “You’re the one who–! Ugh. Shut up, Claudia.”

Claudia’s hand reached over in an attempt to ruffle his hair. He swatted it away. “So are you gonna tell me her name?”

“Nope.” 

“Ugh, fine! I’ll find out on my own then.” She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“You do that.”

One more laugh escaped her, quietly through her nose this time. “So, what other classes do you have today?” She asked, finally relenting.

“History, pre-calc, chem, and art.”

“Ooh, that’s nice!” She said brightly. “You get to have art at the end of the day.” 

“Yeah, I’m happy about that,” he said with genuine cheer in his voice. 

Claudia tapped the table excitedly. “Oh, speaking of, how’s that sketch going? The one of Ez and I petting the dog?”

“Oh, right! I finished that one, I’ll show it to you soon. I’m working on another one now.”

She swatted at his arm. “You better show me soon, I’ve been excited to see it!” She paused to take another sip from her thermos. “So are you able to work on your own sketches during class?”

“Heh, I mean, if Ms. Reiner lets me. Most of the time she’ll have specific projects she wants us to do, though.” 

“Hm.”

The bell rang, startling Callum. Had it been nearly an hour, already? While lunch hadn’t been the terrible, lonely period he’d expected, and in fact had been quite nice, he was glad to see it end. The day really was starting to go by fast, with four of the eight periods done. 

_ Halfway there. You can do this.  _

He and Claudia rose, realizing they were headed in opposite directions. She raised her index finger to boop  _ his  _ nose this time, and sauntered away. He turned, shaking his head at her quirkiness.

He headed to class, the thoughts that accompanied him were much less bleak than they had been this morning. With some embarrassment, he caught himself wondering about the new girl. Surely a result of Claudia’s teasing. 

But he wasn’t thinking of the back of her head, nor the white messy bun perched on top of it. No, Callum wondered what the girl, Rayla, must be feeling. Starting a new school, in a new country, at their age? It must be a huge adjustment. 

Suddenly daydreaming, as he tended to do, Callum placed himself in her shoes. He saw himself wandering through foreign halls, studying the faces in the crowd, all of them strangers who didn’t know about– who didn’t know  _ him _ . Navigating unfamiliar surroundings normally set Callum’s heart racing. But now? Moving someplace new didn’t seem so bad.

He wondered if it was odd to feel jealous of a stranger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ezran's dream: This was an actual dream I had once. I feel like Ez is someone that would be able to lucid dream easily.
> 
> Ethari's note to Rayla/Scottish Gaelic translation: "mo leannan" = "my darling/sweetheart"


	2. Drawing Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his talk with Claudia, Callum has a more positive outlook on the first day of school. During art class, Rayla receives help on their first assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who interacted with this story. One of my goals in writing this was to develop a more consistent writing schedule, and the responses are great motivators to hold myself to that. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the next chapter :)

Callum was pleasantly surprised– no, _shocked_ , was a more accurate sentiment, that the second half of the day was passing by with relative ease. 

It was largely thanks to Claudia. Being around her had improved his mood considerably, and it made dealing with everything else that much easier.

On top of that, his other teachers hadn’t been interested in lengthy introductions or letting the class have free rein. They’d spent the entirety of the period going over coursework; his chem teacher had even started pulling notes from the first unit of their textbook for them to copy. It was a welcome distraction from his earlier anxieties. 

And so, he was startled by the blaring of the bell announcing the end of seventh period. His chest felt light. The day was _almost over._ And he got to end his days making art! Well, every other day. On B days he’d have to stay for chem lab. But for now, he’d enjoy it while he could. 

Another solace, he realized as he headed downstairs, was that Ms. Reiner might not walk on eggshells around him like some of his teachers had. She was a kind woman and knew him well, having been his art teacher since middle school. He even used to spend the occasional late afternoon in her classroom, working on projects and chatting with her about art history.

And then his normal days at school had come grinding to a halt, and the stability in his life tumbled away like rocks down a cliff face. Ms. Reiner had actually reached out back then. Called him a few weeks after it happened. He hadn't said much at the time, but it meant a great deal to him. 

Maybe one person in this school, apart from Claudia, would treat him normally.

He was the first student to arrive and in hindsight he saw this for the blessing it was. Because while he should have guessed it, he still wasn’t entirely prepared for the emotionally charged moment that was to come–

“Callum! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Ms. Reiner strode around the massive divider stacked with art supplies, arms out. She drew him into a tight, matronly hug. 

Her hand rested on his shoulder as she pulled back. “Now, listen. You’re welcome in this class any time of day, you hear? If you ever need somewhere quiet to sit, or to draw, I’ll set you up back here. Okay?” she assured him, a touch of sadness mixing in with her affectionate smile.

“Thanks Ms. Reiner, I appreciate that.” He returned the smile. “I really missed your class.” 

“Oh! I have to show you something, you’ll love this.” She led him behind the room divider, where it looked like a particularly brutal storm had ravaged through some poor art supply store. “I got these extra large canvases, I’ve been trying to decide how I should go about the group projects, and I thought these would be good for it. But! You’ll _never believe_ the acrylic paint I managed to get–!” She went on excitedly, and Callum paid rapt attention, nodding eagerly at her enthusiasm. 

But another part of his mind was still occupied with what she’d said. Or rather, what she _hadn’t_ said. He hadn’t realized how much his body tensed, anticipating the horribly invasive question he feared would come–

‘How have you been?’

–but, thankfully, it hadn’t. She clearly knew that he wouldn’t be doing well, or she wouldn’t have offered him refuge in her classroom. But that was _exactly what he needed_ from others. Compassion, innate understanding. 

As it were, he’d grown accustomed to the panic that flared up when someone who _knew_ what happened asked him _how he was doing._ As if it were a topic as casual as the weather.

_‘Yes, because I’m sure you’d love to hear the real answer! That wouldn’t be awkward at all!’_ was usually the thought that followed. 

He snapped back to the present when he realized Ms. Reiner had finished showing him the new supplies. “Alright, go on and sit, I’ll be there in a moment.” She patted his shoulder as he turned away.

The classroom was split into six large tables, each with four stools around them. He’d left his backpack on the table closest to Ms. Reiner’s desk, which remained otherwise empty. A few students filled up the back half of the classroom, far removed. In any other class he might have felt exposed, too obviously isolated from the others. Now, on the other hand...

The bell rang as the rest of the students got situated and Ms. Reiner started taking attendance. But Callum paid no mind to the others. He was preoccupied by the little jolt of excitement that coursed through him as he took in the expansive table before him and saw the _possibilities_ it held.

His own workstation. Here he could spread out the entirety of his pencil case with ease. There was enough space for two or three or maybe four canvases, should he want to work on a few projects simultaneously. Hell, he could have all that and still have room for a few paint palettes. 

He felt, for the first time all day, glad to be exactly where he was. He’d carved out his own corner of the school. A place he could enjoy himself, somewhere he could be at peace–

A light knock on the door interrupted his musings.

“I’m sorry, is this Ms. Reiner’s class?” a foreign, but not unfamiliar voice asked from the doorway.

“Yes, come on in! Have a seat!” Ms. Reiner patted the stool directly opposite Callum’s. The latecomer mumbled a brief apology and sat down.

Well. He supposed half the table would do well enough.

“What’s your name, hon?” Ms. Reiner asked.

“Rayla.”

“Rayla, Rayla...right, okay!” Ms. Reiner crossed her name off and continued down the list of students.

Callum fiddled with the pencil in his hand, avoiding looking at his deskmate as she placed her belongings on the table.

He should probably look up at some point though, right? Acknowledge her? It would probably be rude not to. He didn’t want to appear standoffish or unwilling to glance in her direction, especially when that very behavior from others bothered him so deeply. But...ugh. He worried if he looked at her she’d somehow be privy to his earlier conversation with Claudia. 

Slowly, his eyes tracked upward, head still angled down. She wasn’t looking at him. She’d swiveled in her seat to glance at the wall– looking at the art that hung there?

She turned back around. He was still looking at her. His eyes flicked down to his hands, heart beating wildly.

Had she seen him? Did she think he’d been staring in a creepy way? He _hadn’t_ been! Ugh. Claudia had really gotten in his head.

He tried again. She was still facing forward, hands tucked in her pockets, not looking at him. His eyes fixed at a point on her side of the table, close enough to keep her in his periphery but _not_ focused directly on her.

She shifted in her seat. Her eyes moved. So did his. They locked together. 

Then the corners of her lips turned up.

He grinned back at her and raised his hand, adding a slight wave for good measure. He fixated on her sweet smile and realized Claudia’s assessment of her had been spot on.

_Ugh. Really, Callum?_

Perspiration immediately gathered in his palms. Was the wave too much? Did it look awkward? Why was he so terrible at social interactions?!

Thankfully, Ms. Reiner started to address the class, giving him an excuse to turn away from Rayla.

She spoke for some time about the types of projects they’d be working on throughout year, the different themes and mediums they’d be using. A few ideas already gripped him, vibrant images springing to his mind. 

“So, I think you all should have some type of pencil to work with today. If not, just grab one from the cupboards.” She gestured to the overflowing supply bins. “Some days, in between projects, I might ask you to do a quick sketch. Sometimes with a prompt, sometimes without. Today, I’d like for you to draw something that makes you feel inspired. This isn’t due today, and won’t be graded. I’d just like to see some of your ideas, and maybe they’ll inspire me!” 

The class stared at her, unmoving. 

“Well, go ahead!”

Quickly settling on a subject for his inspiration, Callum opened his notebook and set to work. It would be a bit of a challenge. The same one he’d contended with this morning, actually, but he liked overcoming some adversity. Well, at least with his art. And this was a skill he wanted to improve upon.

His surroundings, including any cute Scottish girls in his vicinity, blurred. The entirety of his world had compressed into a single blank page.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Five minutes? Ten? At some point, he bobbed to the surface from the depths of his concentration and realized Ms. Reiner was standing at the opposite end of the table. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay! Tell me what comes to mind when picturing what inspires you,” Ms. Reiner said.

“Well, I guess my first thought was someone close to me? That inspires me? But the only person I can draw is that guy from Hangman.”

Callum breathed loudly through his nose, but Rayla didn’t seem to notice.

“Don’t focus so much on how ‘good,’ it looks,” Ms. Reiner explained. “Focus on _why_ this person inspires you, instead of how well you can depict them. Because I don’t care so much about that. I just want to see that inspiration reflected on the page.” 

Rayla looked a little lost, but seemed determined not to let it show.

“I– okay? I’ll try doing that, then.”

“Remember, this isn’t for a grade. Whatever you come up with is correct.” Ms. Reiner said gently before wandering to the far side of the classroom.

“Yeah, that’s great an’ all, but anything I draw’ll look like it was done by a blootered bairn,'' Rayla muttered under her breath. Callum wasn’t sure if he misheard some of the words or just didn’t know what they meant, but he got the cadence of it and had to stifle a laugh.

She gazed forward, expression a little glum. Until her eyes widened. It seemed like– but no. She couldn’t be looking at him, could she? Why would she react like that? 

“Oh, you must be joking.” 

Was she still talking to herself? Callum turned back to his paper, fighting off the curiosity that threatened to tug his head upright.

“How the fuck did you draw that?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

Yeah, okay. That was definitely directed at him. 

His heart thrummed wildly as he looked at her. Her tone sounded almost angry. But her eyes popped, her mouth hung slightly agape with what seemed like awe. It made him squirm with self-consciousness.

“I, uh–“ he began smartly. “I don’t really know? I mean, I’ve been drawing for a long time, so I kinda just...practice a lot?” 

She stared at him for a countless number of seconds, eyebrows furrowed. “Well, that’s great,” she scoffed, but there was no real vehemence to it. “How am I meant to pass this class when I can’t even draw a smiley face and I’m sat next to motherfucking Michelangelo?”

The laugh that escaped Callum sounded more like a choke, and indeed it robbed him of his breath for a few seconds while he coughed out the spit lodged in his windpipe. Tears pooled in his eyes, both from the aforementioned spit and from how much her statement had amused him.

There was less bewilderment in her stare now. She even seemed apologetic as his coughing settled.

“Didn’t mean to do you in, there.” A breezy laugh passed from her lips. “Seriously, though. That’s amazing.” She gestured emphatically at his drawing. “I don’t know how you even– you could give me a hundred years to try and I’d never make anything like _that._ ”

He didn’t know what to say. He’d never been complimented on his work with such vulgarity before, but clearly there was real admiration in her words.

“I mean, I’ve been drawing for like, ten years? So I bet if you had a hundred to learn you could make something way better than this.” 

“Hm, maybe. Doesn’t seem likely, though.” She shrugged. “Do those belong to someone specific? Or are they just random hand gestures?” 

He startled. “Oh. Well, um. The hands aren’t anyone’s specifically. But I drew this because I was thinking of my aunt.” He paused, eyes darting between the page and Rayla’s questioning stare. “She’s deaf, and sometimes when people meet her they just assume she’s helpless, or that she can’t get by on her own. But she’s just– she’s awesome. Like, how does anyone think being deaf makes her weaker? I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It’s pretty funny when she proves them wrong, though.” Rayla’s expression had flipped from a slight frown to a wide, enthusiastic smile. He was momentarily cut off from his train of thought.

“So um, yeah. The hand gestures. It just means ‘inspire’ in sign language. You sign it like this,” Callum demonstrated it for her, “so I just wanted to show the hands going through the different positions.”

Rayla’s smile didn’t falter, but she remained silent. The knots in his stomach tightened.

“Also, um, it worked out well because, hands? You know? They’re kind of the hardest thing for me to draw. For a lot of people, too. And I just started a new sketch this week, and it’s got two people holding hands. So I thought, uh, it would be good if I practiced drawing hands more? And uh...yeah.” He cut himself off. He hadn’t given himself much time to breathe, there. Was he rambling? It definitely felt like he was rambling.

He peered up, gut twisting further as he waited for her response. 

She shook her head, mouth still open slightly. “You are...wow. I don’t even know what to say. That’s so amazing. How you think about what to draw, all that about your aunt. Just...wow,” she repeated. 

“Um, thanks,” he said, voice a little choked. He placed the pencil down and brought his hands to his lap, wringing them together.

“You kind of inspired me, you know. I think I’d actually _like_ to learn how to draw now!” 

“I mean, I can help you with that if you want?” He offered without hesitation. 

Then he thought about it. And, yeah. It still seemed like a good idea. 

“Ooh, really?” Rayla’s eyes lit up. They were a really vibrant color. Bluish-gray? “Can I pass off your work as my own and get an easy A?” She teased.

“Sure! As long as I get credit for any stick figures you draw.” 

“Those’ll definitely get you far,” she nodded seriously. “Might even make it into some museums, I bet.”

“Ah, but at what cost? The guilt of robbing you, Rayla, an artistic visionary, of her moment in the spotlight would surely eat away at my soul,” he said with the most theatrical expressions he could muster. 

Her smile evaporated. “Oh, fuck. Now I feel bad.”

“Why?” He asked, alarmed.

“This whole time we’ve been talking you know my name and I don’t know yours!”

“Oh!” He said, nerves settling. “It’s Callum.”

“ _Callum?”_ She looked dumbfounded.

“Uh, yeah?” Distressed, half-formed thoughts scattered around his mind. What was wrong with his name? “Is that, like, weird? I know it’s not that common–“

“No, no, no. It actually _is_ common. Just didn’t expect to meet any Callums here,” she clarified. “It’s a very Scottish name.”

Huh. He hadn’t known that. “Really? I– hm. I had no idea.” 

Could he have any Scottish relatives? He didn’t have a very large extended family, and the majority of those family members were...were Harrow’s. So they weren’t relatives by blood. Maybe somewhere on his biological father’s side? Had his mother chosen his name based on that? 

Without warning, fear clutched at his chest. Not the flustered, exhilarated kind he felt talking to Rayla. No, this was a cold dread. Like ice injected in his veins, immobilizing him. He knew this conversation could easily veer into dangerous territory. Toward family, toward parents. And he needed to shove those topics aside without raising suspicion, should they come up. 

_Please, please, don’t let them come up._

Rayla scanned over his face, eyes squinted like she was inspecting him for defects or something. “I’m trying to see if you have any type of Scottish look about you,” she clarified. Oh. Well, that made more sense.

“What would be considered a ‘Scottish look’? Besides, I guess, red hair?” His fingers brushed against the strands that fell across his own forehead. Definitely not red.

“Not _every_ Scot has red hair, you know,” she said with a touch of exasperation. “Would’ve been hard for me to get my hair like this if I were a redhead.”

Her hair was really, starkly, white. It suited her well, so somehow he assumed it was just like that? “Oh, so white hair isn’t a common Scottish color, then?” He grinned.

“Is white a common color anywhere? Other than among the elderly?” She rolled her eyes. “No, my natural hair’s pretty light, which is actually pretty rare in Scotland. So of course I thought, ‘why not stand out more!’”

It was hard to tell whether she was being sarcastic or not. “Is that why you dyed it? So it would stand out?”

“No.” She looked away from him, idly twirling a loose strand that fell along her cheek. “I just thought it looked nice.”

“Oh it does,” he blurted unthinkingly. His heart plummeted into his stomach as soon as he realized what he’d said, and even _more so_ when he noticed a slight flush rising along her cheeks.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, glancing at the floor. Her turn to be quietly abashed now.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, so– art! Did you still want to, I mean, did you want me to help you with that now?” 

“Yeah!” She looked eager, until her face fell a little. “I mean, if you don’t mind,” she mumbled. 

How she believed he would possibly mind discussing art with her was inconceivable.

“No, I’d love to! Let’s do it.”

  
  


___________

  
  
  


Rayla felt a bit flustered– embarrassed?– as Callum moved to sit next to her. She was suddenly extremely aware that they weren’t the only two people in the room. Had the rest of the class been talking this whole time? Had they been silent? She truly had _no_ idea.

And had the teacher heard her say ‘motherfucking Michelangelo’? 

She groaned internally. What an impression she must have made.

She shifted her notebook to the left, closer to Callum. His offer to help was sweet, but unless he actually drew the damn thing for her, it was doubtful that anything she turned in would be good.

“Okay! So,” he clasped his hands together, “wanna tell me what you’re thinking?”

“Well, it’s like I was saying before, I had a person in mind, my uh–” She froze as a prickle of unease ran along her skin. “My dad,” she recovered quickly. “But I don’t know what I’m meant to do. I can’t draw him, so I guess I have to ‘reflect the inspiration’ somehow?”

Callum looked away, just for a second, until he shook his head and refocused on her.

“Well, like Ms. Reiner said, don’t worry about whatever you draw looking totally accurate.” He grabbed her pencil and brought it to rest on his lower lip, an action that seemed unconscious. “Hm,” his eyes raked over the bare sheet, like he could already see the markings scrawled on it.

“What about drawing some kind of object? Or place?” he asked. “Something that reminds you of him, or the reason why he inspires you.”

There were many reasons why Ethari inspired her. His strength, for one. The countless times he’d been there for her, helped pull her through the most difficult moments of her life, all the while barely holding it together himself. He was incredibly selfless. And kind. He never let his troubles hinder the warmth and love he showed others. 

She couldn’t say any of that, though. It conjured up painful memories. All the fondness and admiration she had for him intertwined with the grief they shared. And there was no way she was drawing anything about _that_.

“He’s passionate about what he does,” she decided on. “He’s an engineer, and he enjoys it for the most part. But there was a time in his life where he felt sort of, stuck? You know? In a bit of a mundane routine. So he started building things for himself.” Even now, she could see some of the eye-catching pieces that adorned Ethari’s workshop back home. “He got _really_ into it, even started selling some of his work. I guess he’s kind of an artist, too.” She turned to grin at Callum. “Not sure if you’ve done stuff like this, but he’s really into woodworking and metalworking.” She rolled back the sleeve of her jumper and presented her left wrist, exposing a thin silver bracelet.

“Wow! He made that?” Callum asked.

“Yep, for my birthday last year.” 

Runaan had given the box to her, Ethari’s hand rested on his shoulder. Both of them looked on with anticipation as she unwrapped it–

_Don’t think about that now._

She sighed. “So, yeah. It inspires me to see him do what he loves.”

Callum pulled the notebook closer and tapped the pencil against the table in a fast, rhythmic motion.

“Okay, yeah! I feel like– I feel like that’ll look good!” He looked about ready to bounce out of his seat. “So, what if for _your_ project you draw some of your _dad’s_ projects? You could even make your bracelet the focus, if you want! You have it here for reference.” 

She tilted her head, pensive. “That’s true, it would probably be easier to draw something I can look at.” 

Callum placed the pencil on the desk, moving his hand to tug at the sleeve of his shirt. “So, uh, does that idea sound good to you?” 

“Oh yeah, it does! I love it, it’s just–” she huffed a laugh. “Your canny ideas might not be enough to make anything I draw look good,” she said with a shrug.

“I mean, it was mainly _your_ idea,” Callum said, gesturing at her wrist. “I couldn’t have come up with anything if you hadn’t told me about your dad.” He gave her a gentle smile. “But it might be easier if you start by focusing on one thing. Maybe just work on getting the down bracelet for now?”

“Might be better for me to start out simpler, yeah.” She unclasped the back of the bracelet, bringing it to eye level.

Callum’s hand extended toward her, hovering in midair. “Can I take a closer look at it?” He asked tentatively. 

Rayla’s fingers clenched, the sleek curvature of the metal pressing into her palm. She fought off the urge to stuff the thing into her pocket, out of view. But really, what was so bad about him taking a closer look? He’d already seen it, after all. 

She didn’t want to seem rude. Callum had been eager to help her, and seemed genuinely sweet. He was also the first person that she’d shared an enjoyable conversation with today.

“Sure,” she said, placing the bracelet in his palm. 

His eyebrows went up a little as he studied it, cupping it securely. He regarded the piece of jewelry with the same gentleness a storybook princess might show a bird perched in their hand.

“I can’t believe the detail in this,” he muttered, transfixed on the delicate carvings along the side. “Wow, even the craters look so accurate! And it’s such a _tiny_ design.”

“Yep, he’s amazing,” she sighed. “Well, suppose I should get to drawing it now.” 

“Oh, right. Here you go.” He handed it back to her carefully, as if afraid he might drop it. “And uh, just let me know if you need any more help with it.” 

“I will, thanks.” 

They grinned at each other, and Callum half rose from his stool, lingering for a moment before returning to his own seat.

His absence from her side left her feeling strangely bereft.

With the bracelet in front of her, she set to work. A fair amount of time, longer than she cared to admit, was spent drawing, furiously erasing, then redrawing the outline of the bracelet. ‘Outline’ was actually a generous term. In reality it was a bunch of lopsided ovals of varying shapes and sizes. None of them looked right.

She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. The scratching of pencils and hushed conversations around the room set her on edge. She glanced up to find Callum in a sort of art-trance, completely absorbed in his work. _How does he do that?_

Maybe she just needed a fresh start. A new approach. She discarded the crinkled up sheet of paper she’d been working on and tore out a new one. 

_Come on, it shouldn’t be this hard!_

She sketched, pointedly not focusing on the dimensions of an oval, but instead the beauty in Ethari’s work. Hopefully she could do it some justice. Soon she held the paper up to examine her progress. These were drawings that _she_ had created, and they actually looked recognizable! It was more than she thought herself capable of.

“That looks nice, Rayla. I’m looking forward to seeing more of your work in this class,” said the figure that had appeared at her side.

She turned to Ms. Reiner. “Really? Thanks.” Pride bubbled up in her chest. Unwarranted, maybe, it wasn’t like it was _that_ great. But still. “I was a bit lost at first, but Callum was a real help,” she nodded in said boy’s direction. 

He broke from his reverie with the expression of someone who’d just woken from a dream. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Rayla and Ms. Reiner both laughed. 

“Oh, yes. Callum is a wonderful artist,” their teacher said fondly. 

He wrung his hands together, glancing to the far side of the classroom and back again. “Thanks, Ms. Reiner,” he mumbled. She patted his shoulder as she retreated from their table, causing him to squirm a little. His embarrassment was quite endearing.

“So uh, how’s it going so far?” he asked.

“Pretty good. Better than I expected, actually.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the bell. “Already?” He whispered, surprised.

Rayla, who hadn’t been quite so divorced from the passage of time, grinned at him. “Yep. Time flies when you’re having fun, eh?”

“Oh yeah, it’s been a _fun_ day,” he said with a sardonic smile.

“More good days to come,” she quipped.

Ms. Reiner wished the class farewell as they flooded out the door, Rayla still walking alongside Callum as they entered the hallway. “So–” she began, only to be cut off by another kind of ringing. 

He jumped, fumbling to retrieve the phone from his pocket. “Oh sorry, one second! Hello?” he asked into the receiver.

A beat of silence. “Yep, I’ll be right there. Okay, bye.”

He turned back to Rayla, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I actually have to run. But, um. It was really nice meeting you.” He stopped in his tracks, giving her an awkward smile. “I hope your first day here was good.”

“Thanks, Callum. Nice meeting you, too.”

Nearly tripping in the process, he turned and sped walked away. Rayla wondered if she should be offended, but no feelings of indignation struck her. There didn’t seem to be any malicious intent behind his sudden departure. It certainly didn’t overshadow her desire to speak with him again. As far as first impressions went, Callum had been interesting. And kind. 

She was looking forward to getting home and sharing the high point of her day with Ethari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions of Scottish words/phrases:  
> "blootered" = "very drunk"  
> "bairn" = "baby/small child"


End file.
